


How to Sleep In Orbit

by wraithwisp



Series: KOTOR AU [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Insomnia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Teeth Clenched Teamwork, everyone is kind of a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraithwisp/pseuds/wraithwisp
Summary: As one Sith Armada wages war on the Republic, another lies in wait beyond the reaches of the Outer Rim, slowly growing in power so it can launch its own future war on the Jedi Order. The Sith Empire is a world of absolutes: kill or be killed, rule or be ruled.Fenris, a refugee from the Empire, only wants to forget everything that has ever happened on that side of the galaxy. Unfortunately, however, he's found himself on a crew with three powerful force users, and one even is a Sith from the Empire himself.It's going to be a bit of a rough adjustment period.
Relationships: Anders & Fenris (Dragon Age), Fenris & Aveline Vallen, Fenris & Dorian Pavus, Fenris & Isabela (Dragon Age), Fenris & Merrill (Dragon Age)
Series: KOTOR AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1459420
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	How to Sleep In Orbit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ushauz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ushauz/gifts).



> Star wars is so stupid man like you defeat one sith empire in kotor and then kotor 2 is like "ah ha! you only THOUGHT you defeated the sith, but actually, there are SECRET SITH and now you have to defeat THEM!'' and so you do and then the old republic comes out like ''syke!!! the secret Sith were actually a cover for MORE SECRET SITH, EVEN FARTHER AWAY, AND NOW YOU HAVE TO DEFEAT--''
> 
> And then they continue to pull this same trick right up to the Rise of Skywalker (2019). Bad star wars!!
> 
> nyway here is a fic where Fenris is running away from one of those secret sith empires and so is Dorian. Have fun.

* * *

INTRO

* * *

There was a saying back in the Empire: “Enjoy your enemies, or enjoy nothing.”

It didn’t translate well to Basic. Much of its meaning was lost. “Enjoy” didn’t just mean to relish the challenge they provided, or to enjoy striking them down. The word implied, well, companionship. It meant relishing one’s company, befriending them. Loving them. 

“Love your enemy or love nothing.” 

That didn’t quite capture the meaning, either, Fenris thought. 

Parties in the Sith Empire were civil. Fenris had attended many by Danarius’s side, standing still and quiet with his eyes peeled. The Sith Lords drank with each other, laughed, and danced like friends. Good friends, even.

For a time.

Danarius had a childhood friend. Fenris didn’t know the story, but apparently they had met as younglings in the Academy, and remained close. Danarius invited the man to such a party. Everything went as it always would. Danarius and his old friend played games together and laughed at the same jokes. They talked of old times and fond childhood memories.

Danarius killed him with a bolt of lightning through his heart. Right in the manor, where all the other guests could see. 

Because the man was in the way of Danarius’s next political move. And he had tipped just enough of his old friend’s allies to his side that no one would stand up for the man when the time came. 

The man crumpled over, a hole where his chest had been. A quick death, though a gruesome one.

“Fenris,” Danarius had said levelly. “Call one of the others to get rid of the body.”

The Sith Lords hardly gave the body a glance as the slaves scrambled to clean up the mess, and the party continued much the same as before.

Any single one of the Sith Lords would murder any of their own, were the price right: parents, wives, husbands, children. If one could get away with it, and could stand to gain something substantial from it, there would be absolutely no hesitation. The quest for power came before everything. Before family. Before friendship. Before love. 

And yet the Sith Lords would dance and drink together, as bright-eyed and full of laughter as innocent men. 

Fenris had thought at first it was an act. But soon he learned to read people, and their posture was loose, their smiles genuine. Taking their enjoyment where they could, when they could, even if they danced over the body of one of their own.

“Love your enemy, or no one at all.”

Because everyone, _everyone,_ was your enemy. But life was still better when you had someone to dance with.

Fenris had thought he’d escaped the Empire and its ways. But he thought of that phrase, sleeping for his first night as a member of Isabela’s crew, attempting to get rest mere inches away from dangerous mages. Away from a Sith Lord.

Isabela had a similar life’s philosophy to Sith, it turned out. Work with people, even if you didn’t trust them. Get what you can out of people, and make yourself comfortable even among scoundrels. Otherwise, you don’t belong in the piracy business.

Fenris was not a pirate, or a Sith. That first night on the ship, he lay awake, eyes open.

Waiting.

* * *

Unfortunately, all the beds besides the captain’s were in a single room.

Merrill slept curled up almost into a ball. Aveline slept on her back, blankets perfectly tucked in around her. Anders slept on his face, breathing undetectable except for the occasional loud snore that made Fenris want to put a pillow over him and make the noise stop.

Dorian, it seemed, didn’t sleep. Rather than take off his armor or helmet, he sat on his bed, dark aura swirling around him as he went into a trance to restore his energy.

Anders woke up, his nose scrunching in disgust. “Ugh, this place reeks of Dark Side like the communal couch in the Dantooine Enclave reeks of sex after a holiday.”

Aveline heard, let out a groan, and rolled back over while pulling a blanket over her face.

“Wow,” Merrill said, yawning and stretching. “That’s a really specific comparison, Anders.”

“It was a very specific smell,” Anders said. Then, he turned to Dorian and squinted. “Have you been in that armor all night?”

Dorian turned his head towards Anders wordlessly.

“Did you even sleep?” Anders asked incredulously. 

Dorian, in response, stood up and left the room.

“Hey! Ugh, Mandalorians never know any manners,” Anders grumbled.

Fenris watched, already sitting up even before Dorian came out of his trance. Eyes stinging, posture collapsing in on itself, but watching closely.

Dorian was not a Mandalorian. He was a Sith Lord, for some reason stranded far beyond Empire territory, who maintained a disguise by wearing Mandalorian armor at all times. But the others couldn’t know that. The Sith Empire, for all their talk of their own mightiness, was a well kept secret--a collection of planets that existed far beyond the reaches of the Galactic Republic.

Why the secrecy? Because years ago the Sith had fought the Republic and the Jedi had all but wiped them out. And so now the Sith cowered in fear of the Republic, sticking to hiding in the shadows until their power grew. It was an amusing contradiction.

Dorian hid himself like all of the true Sith had. Putting on a mask and running. Fenris could have told the others of the Empire, of what Dorian was but… Fenris was not sure if they would believe him, or if that it would lead to anything good if they did. So instead, Fenris kept his own eyes peeled.

* * *

There were no mornings in the depth of space. Rather than sunlight, it was Isabela’s voice that woke the others for a rotation, dragging them from their beds. Or, in Anders’ case, a loud blaring horn right into his ear.

“Up! Up!” Isabela would say, usually followed by something like, “All hands on deck!” or “Lethal gas leak! Everyone up!’

Fenris did not wake to Isabela’s voice, even as they spent more sleep cycles in space.

He rose, without fail, before the others. Not to Isabela’s voice, but to the wake up calls that existed in his own head, programmed into him like the protocols in a droid. He woke confused, thinking he felt silken sheets, or that the bed was larger than it was. Sometimes, he jumped up at hearing a familiar alarm, only to realize it was just one of the noises of the ship.

Isabela’s ship. Far from the Empire and Danarius. In Republic territory. Which is where Fenris was now.

Isabela eventually caught him, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Four hours ‘til I wake the others,” she said. “And there’s nothing to do. So let’s have a bit of fun, shall we?”

Isabela sat him down and pushed a bottle at him. 

“Rodian rum,” she told him. “Hits like a stunner in the chest. Give it a shot.”

Fenris did as she suggested, trying to sip the strange substance delicately. Somehow, even a drop seemed to light his throat on fire and soon he was coughing up a storm.

“See?” Isabela said. “Just like I said. Now how shall we entertain ourselves while the others are out?”

Fenris felt the rum taking effect quickly, the burning in his chest being replaced by a pleasant haze. Isabela, sitting across him, looked poised and relaxed as she always did. Fenris took a moment to admire the ease of her manner and the teasing half-smile playing at her lips.

Talking to Isabela made him feel a deep warmth in his chest. Or perhaps that was the rum.

“There are three mages aboard,” Fenris blurted out eventually. “You cannot trust--that is, I know you do not trust them. But they will cause trouble if you allow them to stay.”

“Oof, right to business then. Alright, there go my plans of playing strip Pazaak,” Isabela grumbled, making a show of exaggerated disappointment.

“Mages will turn on you and destroy you,” Fenris insisted. “It will be our ruin if you keep them aboard.”

“Mages,” Isabela said. “Is that what they call that sort, where you’re from?”

Fenris paused. “The word, the beliefs… it translates better to that than anything else. Or rather, _sorcerer_ is likely the best equivalent, but that takes three syllables to say and _mage_ only takes one.” He took a breath. “But that is besides the point. They will bring disaster. It is in their nature.”

“And they tell you that, back home?”

“Where I am from, they rule,” he told her. “They mutilate, torture, and destroy wherever they go. It is their nature. Their power drives them to madness. This isn’t what I have been told, it is what I have seen with my own eyes. If you had seen what I have…”

Fenris couldn’t continue with an example. The words stuck in his throat. Isabela clicked her tongue.

“Doesn’t sound like a place I’ll be visiting on my vacation. What planet was this?”

Fenris looked away, not saying anything to that. 

“Well I can’t say I know much about Dorian,” Isabela said. “But Merrill and Anders don’t seem quite the type for that. Do you think they’d do what you’re talking about?”

Fenris sucked in a breath, and thought. “Not now. Not yet,” he admitted. “They don’t all start out power-mad. I know that some are _well-intentioned_ but… it is their nature.”

“So, these things you’ve seen,” she said. “Any of that have to do with why you’re not sleeping much?”

Fenris said nothing, and looked away.

“The galaxy’s a big place, Fenris,” Isabela said. “You’ll see a lot more of it if you stick around with me. You’ll start to see more people than the magic ones mutilating and torturing. Here, try that. Bith brandy is a bit sweeter. That should take some of the sting away.”

Fenris drank as she said, without question. The liquor still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He coughed more, and Isabela put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not going to ask you to trust them, or believe they’re good sorts,” Isabela told him. “Opposite of that. I could use a pair of distrusting eyes. I don’t want you to trust Dorian, Anders, or Merrill. I don’t want you to trust Aveline either. Or me.”

“Not you?” he asked drily. “And what should I suspect you of--stealing? Piracy? How terrible.”

Isabela laughed, clapping his shoulder. “You’ve got a sharp sense of humor! I’m lucky we stumbled upon each other in Taris.”

They hadn’t, in fact, “stumbled upon each other” on Taris, exactly. She had rescued him. 

He’d been recaptured by Danarius’s men, sedated, and restrained. When he woke up, the restraints were gone and his captors were lying dead on the floor. Isabela had told him they’d gotten into a fight and killed each other off, but a quick look at the bodies told him otherwise. Their weapons were not on them, but rather put to the side in a moment of rest. And most of them had been shot in the back.

Isabela had saved his life. Maybe one day she’d even admit it.

“Keep your eyes peeled, Fenris. But save some of that suspicion for the rest of us.” She raised her bottle. “And make sure you save a nice big glass of it for me.”

Maybe one day, she might let him trust her.

* * *

Dorian was not exactly the reason Fenris couldn’t sleep easy. Even if Dorian weren’t there, Merrill and Anders’s presence was enough to keep Fenris on edge. But the problem extended even beyond that: Even completely alone, in the sturdiest shelter he could find, Fenris had not slept one restful night since he had left Danarius.

Still, the evil magic aura that Dorian cloaked himself was the sharpest reminder of where Fenris was running from. Purely for that, Fenris decided Dorian deserved an extra cold shoulder.

Unfortunately, Dorian took the opposite tack. Dorian did not speak Basic, and so he was reliant on Fenris’s translations to understand anything in the Republic, or anything the others said. As a result, Dorian deliberately sought Fenris out and constantly hissed at him for explanations.

“Fenris, Fenrissssssss.”

“Away,’’ Fenris snapped. “Isn’t it enough that you won’t let me sleep?’’

“I wh--I’m not?’’

Dorian actually sounded stunned at the accusation. Fenris said nothing.

“Fenris, you think I’m--what, holding some curse over you to deprive you of sleep? Why in the stars would I do that?’’

Dorian wasn’t. Fenris knew he wasn’t. Still, hearing Dorian act so taken aback made Fenris’s blood boil. 

“Do the Sith ever need a reason? It certainly would be characteristic for _your_ sort,’’ Fenris sneered. “But no, your presence itself is enough to keep me awake at night.”

Somehow the silence from Dorian sounded wounded. Likely an act, Fenris decided. Pretending he was above such tactics. Hopefully, though, the rebuke would put Dorian off from speaking to him long enough.

(It didn’t.)

“Fenris,’’ Dorian said. “I am really not trying to make you uncomfortable. I know that there are plenty of bastards from my caste. It’s understandable you would--’’

Fenris deliberately tuned out Dorian’s prattling. Fenris already knew this script, the song and dance he had heard enough times in the Empire that he could practically recite it by heart. _But I’m one of the good ones,_ said every Sith or slave mage who wasn’t powerful enough to lack fear for Fenris’s own prowess. _I would never do all those bad things the rest of them do!_

“Are you even listening?’’ Dorian seemed to catch on, and actually huffed behind his helmet.

Fenris looked up. Currently, the common room of the ship was empty. Isabela and Aveline were in the cockpit. Anders and Merrill were chattering away in the sleeping corners about some magic nonsense. Fenris had used the opportunity to steal a moment for himself.

Or at least, he’d tried to.

“I see no one I need to translate for you,” Fenris told him. “Away.”

Dorian let out a sound under his helmet. A strangled, frustrated sound that was close to a whine. “Is a simple conversation too much to ask for?’’

“In case it isn’t clear,’’ Fenris said to him, levelling a glare. “I am opposed to you, and everything you stand for. I’m opposed to your very presence here. If we hadn’t needed the manpower, I would have kicked you off the highest building in Taris and made it look like an accident so the others wouldn’t go looking for you.’’

“Yes, yes, of course,’’ Dorian said, completely nonplussed (of course he was, Fenris had heard much more serious threats exchanged between Sith Lords). “But I don’t see why any of that should stop us from having a chat.’’

Fenris shot him a glare.

“I’m bored,” Dorian said. “And I have so many questions about the Republic! Why does the food taste like shit? Who was the army back there? And what the fuck happened to Taris?"

"You already know," Fenris explained dryly. "You saw it yourself as we left. Or is your eyesight so poor that you somehow missed the entire planet being razed by a fleet of ships?’’

"You know what I mean," Dorian said. "You have to explain!"

"I _have_ to do nothing. Not for you, _Sith Lord_ ," Fenris snapped. 

Dorian quieted a moment. "Look. I personally don’t want to stick around with a dangerous man who hates me, either. Soon as we dock at the next port, I'll take my leave of the ship, and then you won’t have to tolerate my presence any longer.”

“Good,” Fenris said.

“But would a conversation in the meantime hurt that much?" he asked. "Aren't you bored as well?"

Because, of course, boredom was enough to drive a Sith to take his enjoyment where he could. To converse with a slave, or an enemy.

Fenris fixed his eyes on Dorian. He could do as Dorian wanted and have a simple conversation. There was some appeal to the idea: Dorian was the only one who spoke his native language, after all. For all he hated the Empire he missed being able to express himself and fluently and freely as one did in their native tongue.

Love your enemy, or you enjoy nothing at all. Perhaps that was closer.

But Fenris was not Sith. He would not live like a Sith. Not anymore.

"I am not here for your entertainment _,"_ Fenris hissed at him. "And you'd best not forget that."

* * *

AVELINE

* * *

During his restless wandering during the hours he should have been sleeping, Fenris discovered there was one other person in the crew who seemed to have trouble adjusting: Aveline.

Fenris didn’t know what normal wookiee behavior was but to his eyes Aveline seemed despondent. She sat alone in corners, only growling when Isabela came around and said something snide. She ate little food, for an alien of her size, and instead stirred the gruel with her spoon. 

Fenris had no experience with aliens such as her but she seemed… heartbroken.

“Okay, so next place we’re going to we should be able to get some supplies. Specifically, steal some supplies,” Isabela said. 

Aveline grumbled. Isabela crossed her arms.

“Oh? Don’t like it?” she asked. “Well I never asked you to come along, big girl. Feel free to ditch at the next stop. It would be more that welcome.”

Aveline moaned something in response. 

“She says, ‘I could never leave you, Isabela. You’re too beautiful--’”

Aveline snarled. Anders laughed.

“Anders, stop!” Merrill said. “Stop bullying her!”

“Bullying her?” Anders asked incredulously. “She’s eight feet tall! She’s a giant even by wookiee standards! How could I bully her?”

“Just because she’s big doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings,” Merrill said sincerely. “You shouldn’t tease her about her feelings for Isabela. It’s not nice.”

Aveline responded by flipping over her plate, and storming out.

“Wait, what?” Dorian asked. “Fenris, explanations please?”

“Anders mistranslated Aveline on purpose to mock her. Merrill said that Anders shouldn’t tease Aveline over her ‘feelings for Isabela’ which Anders implied she had.”

“Oh,” Dorian said. “Okay, but does she?”

“What?”

“Have feelings for Isabela?”

Fenris looked out the door Aveline had just stormed out of.

“I… don’t know.”

* * *

Anders was a jerk. Anders barely knew Aveline’s language to begin with, and mistranslated what he did know on purpose to mock her. He showed no inclination at all to learn more, either, instead delighting at the opportunity to prod the poor wookiee.

So Fenris was surprised to hear him talking gently with Aveline in the night, when everyone else should have been sleeping.

“I know it must be hard,” Anders said. “And I know what you must think of Isabela. I’ve heard some of those words you’ve called her, don’t think that’s slipped past me!”

A snarl from Aveline.

“I don’t care _how_ she dresses! Anyway. I know you think she’d lord it over you, or mock you for it… but she’s not like that. She’s a good woman.”

Aveline grumbled.

“I got about half of that.”

Another grumble.

“Well, yes, of course I learned the dirty words first! What do you take me for? Ow! Did you just flick me?”

Fenris looked slightly more around the corner. He could see Anders’ back, and his golden hair. He was crossing his arms at Aveline.

“Anyway,” Anders said. “I think you should tell her. But! I promise I won’t tell her behind your back. Tell her when you’re ready.”

His tone was uncharacteristically gentle, especially considering how he normally addressed Aveline. And then he saw Anders reach forward and pat Aveline on the shoulder, a comforting gesture that hadn’t occurred to Fenris when he’d been attempting to comfort her earlier.

“Fenris,” Dorian whispered beside him. “What did they say?”

Fenris translated quickly and quietly.

“Oh my,” Dorian said. “ _Does_ Aveline have feelings for Isabela? Is that what that means?”

Fenris looked back at the lights in the medbay. “She just might."

The next morning, Aveline barely ate. No one seemed to pay much mind. Things were silent at first, and then Isabela spoke up.

“Alright,” she said. “So here’s the deal. I know a guy who can get us what we need for the ship, but we’re going to have to go through a strip club to meet him.”

Aveline groaned. And then, because no kindness or consideration could last when it came from Anders, his eyes sparkled and he smirked.

“Aveline says that’s excellent,” he piped up. “She loves a nice pair of Rodian tits.”

Aveline threw her plate at him.

* * *

Fenris followed Aveline after mealtime. Aveline stared out the window from where she was sitting on the couch. Fenris thought through all her despondent behavior, and the recent events. He sat across from her and looked around to see if anyone was listening.

“Aveline,” he asked. “Did you lose someone on Taris?”

Aveline turned to him then. And somehow, from her body language, he could read uncertainty. From her tone, she could read heartbreak. And putting together phrases he’d hear Anders translate, he could understand--

_I don’t know._

Fenris nodded. “Sometimes, it is harder to not know.”

Aveline jumped in surprise. She spoke, words he didn’t understand, but Fenris heard a questioning lilt.

“I don’t understand your language,” he said. “But I think I can understand… that.”

He looked out the window with her. Aveline slumped forward, and mumbled. Fenris’s mind worked quickly. He could hear “you” and “only.”

_You’re the only one who--_

Who asked. Who took a moment to acknowledge Aveline might be feeling grief. Fenris felt the strong her to offer comfort, but didn’t know how.

“I am sorry,” he said. “You seem to be a good woman, Aveline. I look forward to the conversations we will have when I learn your tongue.”

Aveline seemed heartened at that. 

“After all, I don’t think anyone should have to rely on that human for communication,” Fenris said. “No one deserves such a fate.”

Aveline snorted. A laugh. 

“Perhaps you can help me?” He said. “We can go through the ship, and you can tell me the names of things.”

As he had suggested, Aveline took him through the ship, pointing out various objects and saying the words for them in Shryiiwook. She came to the engine with him, and named various things, even helping him learn all the compartments and indicating areas he might need to look for problems.

It was difficult to distinguish all of the sounds. Fenris wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to do so perfectly. But he thought that Aveline deserved the respect of having at least one person try.

The good thing was she seemed heartened after Fenris’s attempts to build a bridge between them. 

She ate. She snapped at Anders, but he saw them playing a game of Pazaak, which Merrill hopped up curiously to watch. Merrill slowly inched in, eventually leaning against Aveline’s chest and looking up at her with big, bright eyes. 

Aveline sighed and put an arm around her. Merrill purred.

The bad thing was that… with Aveline settling in, there wasn’t anyone to keep him company during those hours he couldn’t sleep. Still, they continued to try and communicate, and Fenris felt glad he had tried to befriend her.

One time when Aveline taught him words, she managed to spell out a name for him in shaky letters on a digital notepad.

Fenris looked at the words spelled out, and then back up to Aveline.

"I am sorry," he said. "I… can't read."

Aveline put the holopad down, disappointedly.

"But thank you," he said. "Thank you for… trying? I will learn, someday."

Aveline, Fenris decided, was someone he might come to trust.

* * *

FIRST ATTEMPT

* * *

Dorian left at the next planet they stopped at and would have been dead if he hadn’t left his wallet behind.

He’d said his stiff goodbyes to Isabela and left with hardly a word. Isabela made Fenris translate a talk she gave him about checking the standard fares and rates of employment around him before accepting work.

“You’re a Mandalorian!” she told him. “So Man-dalorian up and demand your share.”

Dorian nodded as Fenris translated this. “Okay but Fenris,” he asked. “What’s a Mandalorian?”

Fenris grunted. “Info-holos are free,” he said. “Learn to use them.”

Dorian huffed, repeated his thanks to Isabela, and left without saying much else. That should have been the end of it. Instead, Isabela was suddenly rushing back, wallet in hand.

“That sorry excuse for a Mandalorian,” she grumbled. “I tell him to make sure he gets paid and then he does this to me.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “Does what exactly?”

“Force me to chase after him to make sure he has his pay, that’s what!”

“Oh, but you’re a pirate, aren’t you?” Merrill said. “You could just keep it! It’s just like stealing.”

“ _Forces_ me,” Isabela repeated, shoving the wallet into her pouch. “Forces _us_ to go out of our way like this. Fenris, you come along. He needs to hear the tongue lashing I’m going to give him over this. Anders, you too because we’re going to hit the clinics afterwards and get you supplies.”

Fenris groaned, and rolled reluctantly off the couch to follow. It wasn’t too much of a trial to find Dorian. He didn’t exactly blend into the crowd with all that armor on. Isabela waved the wallet at him and shouted.

“Dorian! Dorian! Hey!”

Dorian turned. And then about three seconds after he had a sniper shot get him right in the back. 

The crowd immediately dispersed, people running in all directions as more shots were fired. Fenris reacted before he realized it, snatching Isabela instantly and pulling her into an alley, where a sniper would be hard pressed to shoot. 

“Anders!” she called. “Barrier!”

Anders threw up a shield over Dorian, causing the following shots to bounce away. Dorian staggered, barely holding himself up after that last shot, covering the exit wound in his chest with one hand.

“Back! Back!’’ Isabela said. “Dorian, back to the ship!’’

Fenris opened his mouth to protest. But he didn’t bother to voice it. Dorian fled back to the _Sirin’s Call._ Fenris hissed a curse under his breath and followed with Isabela, barely avoiding the fire of the thugs who were targeting Dorian.

Onboard, Isabela turned to Dorian, and then to Fenris.

“Fenris,” Isabela said. “Make Dorian explain who these men are that want him.”

Fenris relayed the question.

“Oh, all the men want me,” Dorian said. “I’m fabulously charming.”

Fenris seriously considered hitting the man. Meanwhile, Anders reached out to heal Dorian and got shot with lightning.

“Ow!” he yelped. “Dorian, what--?!”

“Now don’t be like that,’’ Isabela said. “Be a good boy and let Anders patch up those bullet holes.”

“Tell them I can heal myself,’’ Dorian said, defensively holding the wound in his chest while keeping his back to the wall of the ship. “Fenris, tell them--’’

Fenris hissed to himself, and turned away, not bothering to help out further. It wasn’t until hours later he was face to face with Dorian.

“Look,” Dorian said. “I know you’re upset. But it’s not like I planned to get attacked!”

Fenris only grunted in return. “So not only are you Sith,” he said. “But you bring more Sith along with you, and paint a target on our backs.”

“Next planet,” Dorian promised. “And then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Fenris scowled at him. “I hope you keep to that promise. For your sake.’’

Fenris didn’t sleep that night, either.

* * *

ANDERS

* * *

Anders was absolutely fuming at Dorian for refusing treatment, and took to squinting at him any chance he got and trying to figure out when/how he slept.

“I’m going to catch you,” Anders said. “You _have_ to sleep eventually. Whether you take that helmet off or not!”

Dorian said nothing.

“You _have_ to,” Anders said. “I’ll outwait you!”

Anders sat on the bed right across from Dorian, staring him down. He folded in ten minutes, falling back on the bed, not even having the wherewithal to shift his position so he could fully lay on the bed.

“What Sith sorcery did you use to knock him out?’’ Fenris asked.

“No sorcery at all,” Dorian said, sounding affronted. “He just plopped right over.”

Anders slept like that, legs and head sticking out. When he woke, his face was red and he was pouting like a child. Fenris found himself staring at the man’s face, barely holding back an amused chuckle.

“Did I make the Jedi angry?” Dorian asked. “I thought Jedi were supposed to let go of all emotions. Fenris, tell him I said that.”

Fenris crossed his arms, and did nothing.

“Please?”

“And why should I do anything that pleases you, slave-lord?’’ Fenris asked as pointedly as he could.

“Hey, I _told_ you I never actually--’’

“What will you give me for it?’’ Fenris rephrased.

“I have two credits.”

“.....just this once,’’ Fenris grunted.

Honestly, though, the affronted look on Anders’ face was the main payment Fenris was after. 

* * *

Fenris had heard of Jedi before. The Empire wouldn’t shut up about them, in fact. But he was reminded when he caught Dorian deftly dodging his way around the ship _specifically_ to avoid Anders. Dorian wasted no time in explaining all of it to Fenris, his arms gesturing wildly.

“Decimated!’’ Dorian said. “That’s what the history books said, except no, because it wasn’t the Jedi reducing the population to one-tenth. It was the Jedi going through and killing every single sith there was, man, woman, other--even children!’’

“And you take the Empire’s word for all that,” Fenris said drily.

“Look,” Dorian said. “Obviously it’s not all true. The Empire’s history was written by the most professional liars. But if even a fraction of what they say about the Jedi is based in fact? I don’t want to stick around to find out.”

“A mighty Sith Lord, trembling in fear at a man dressed in garbage,” Fenris sneered. “I am glad I have lived to see this day. What exactly are you afraid of him doing?”

“Brainwashing me? Cutting up my skull and sucking out all of the emotions?”

Fenris frowned, and tilted his head. 

“All of the stories people whisper about,’’ Dorian elaborated. ‘’Things like about how they indoctrinate their members from a young age. Cut open their brain and remove the ability to feel emotions, and then the initiate becomes part of a larger consciousness that overrides their thoughts and makes them part of a giant hivemind. Little things like that.”

Fenris raised his brows dubiously. He looked down the hallway, to where Anders standing, arms crossed while he quarrelled with Merrill over something. At the end of his statement, he stuck up his nose in the most absurd haughty manner. Merrill shot something back at him harshly, and it made Anders turn red up to his hairline and stomp his foot like a child on the verge of a tantrum.

“ _Obviously_ not all of that is true,” Dorian said, following where Fenris looked. “But I do believe that they are terrible and wouldn’t exactly be happy if there were some escapees to their attempted genocide.”

“Of course,” Fenris said. “They are mages. And all mages inevitably use their power to subjugate others. Just as you do.’’

“So,” Dorian said, not even addressing the latter comment. “I know you hate the Empire, and me, but can we at least agree not to tell the Jedi about us? Like, specifically so we don’t have to find out exactly how much of the genocide and brainwashing stories are true?”

Fenris thought it over.

“I make no promises,’’ he said.

“You know it won’t be the lords that suffer if the empire is discovered,’’ Dorian said. “The first ones to fall on the abominable Jedi light-swords will be the commoners, the slaves, the poor--’’

“How generous of you, to be so concerned for the slaves,’’ Fenris drawled. “I make no promises. Still, I have no plans to tell… yet. Don’t give me a reason to.’’

He left.

* * *

For all Fenris knew mages were corrupt, he watched Anders and…

Well, he watched Anders. 

Anders hadn’t used a single offensive power. He’d limited himself to barriers and healing. No manipulation. No “mind-tricks.” No draining life or inflicting torment.

Anders was…

Awful. Strangely, mundanely awful in a way that didn’t match the behavior of the sorcerers of the Empire. Anders was annoying.

Fenris watched, and noted his mannerisms. The way he flailed dramatically whenever he gestured. The way he stuck up his nose when talking to Merrill. The variances in his tone, managing to always inflect his voice in such a superior, know-it-all fashion.

Snobbish. Self-obsessed. Prideful.

And yet, he was still wearing the rags he’d been in since Taris.

“Why haven’t you bought yourself clothes?” Fenris asked him one day during mealtime, already kicking himself for willingly talking to a mage.

“I already have clothes. Get your eyes checked.”

Because of course, the human couldn’t answer a simple question.

“I meant proper clothes,” Fenris said. “I know Isabela gave you your share of credits. You could have gotten something decent at the market.”

“Yeah you really could have, Anders,” Isabela said, cutting in. “What happened to the fashionable man I met?”

“There was something to spend the money on that was more important,” Anders told her.

“And that was?” Fenris asked.

Anders said nothing, and focused his attention on dinner.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Isabela said. “As long as you didn’t give it away to some pitiful orphan on the street.”

Anders started eating faster.

“Anders. You didn’t. _Anders.”_

* * *

Isabela and Anders discussed things later in the cargo hold, away from the others. Fenris listened, ears peeled for signs of the Jedi manipulating her. Instead, all he heard were frustrated arguments.

“You won’t drink, you hardly eat, and you won’t even buy yourself a pair of decent clothes. Instead you throw it all away on beggars and orphans.”

“Those things aren’t necessary,” Anders told her. “The Jedi do not have personal possessions. Greed and vanity leads to the Dark Side.”

“You never cared about that before.”

No answer. 

“What happened, Anders?” Isabela said. 

“You’ve seen the Sith. Do you want me to become like them?”

“It’s not an either/or situation Anders. You can have pretty things without turning into a cackling megalomaniac. You used to understand that.”

No answer. Fenris heard a soft response and leaned in, only for a whisper to interrupt him.

“Fenris?” Dorian, poking him with his metal gauntlet. “Fenris are you eavesdropping? On our _captain?”_

“What else is there to do around here?” Fenris retorted.

Dorian paused for a minute. “Okay but, are you going to tell me what they’re saying?”

“Quiet. They’re speaking.”

“Fenris. Fenrisssss.”

“I won’t be telling _you_ anything,” Fenris shot back.

Dorian let out an indignant whine underneath his helmet. 

The Jedi owned nothing, Fenris discovered as he listened. To avoid the “Dark Side” they were supposed to live humbly as possible, having no more than what they needed to do their job. Which was… Fenris did not know. 

“Well,” Isabela said. “I miss the Anders I met at a brothel.”

“It seems,” Fenris said, immediately switching to the Sith language without thinking, “That Isabela and Anders previously met. At a brothel.”

“What?!” Dorian practically bounced. “Fenris. Fenris, explain--”

“Quiet,” Fenris told him.

“...more important things,” Anders said. “I’ve learned that. It would not be right for me to spend money on gold and jewelry. Not when that same money could be food for…”

Fenris continued to listen as the days went by. The Jedi, he discovered, attempted to avoid the madness they called “the Dark Side” by eliminating the lust for power, and the temptation of selfishness. They were supposed to let go of attachment and emotion in order to be focused on “bringing Light to the galaxy.”

What that phrase meant, Fenris could only guess. He just hoped it wasn’t anything to do with spreading a hivemind.

* * *

He almost allowed Anders a grudging sliver of respect for attempting to fight the corruption of magic. Almost. But then, he found out that “not having personal possessions” meant “blithely using everyone else’s possessions whenever he felt like it.”

In particular, Fenris’s towel.

“That,” Fenris said, barely restraining his voice to a normal volume, “is mine.” 

“Huh?” Anders said. “What are you talking abou--hey!”

Fenris instinctively snatched at the towel draped around Anders’ shoulders without thinking. Anders jerked away, but not in time.

“It’s not! Yours!” Anders said. “It was just a towel hanging in the bathroom.”

“It was the one I used!” Fenris snapped, bunching the towel up to his nose. “Now it has your _smell_ on it!”

“Use another one if it bothers you!” 

“No! The other ones have everyone _else’s_ smell on them!”

“You can’t just decide random things on the ship belong to you!”

“It’s common sense! You don’t just use any towel!”

Fenris decided he had a lot less respect for the Jedi custom of not having personal possessions. 

* * *

SECOND ATTEMPT

* * *

They stopped on Nar Shadaa a few days later, an ecumenopolis with an ever present stench. Fenris gagged within the first step off the ship, and Merrill walked around with her hair up on end. However, it seemed to be the appropriate place to look for work, both for a crew of pirates and a “Mandalorian” looking to get mercenary work on his own.

This time, Isabela helped Dorian find a gig herself. Walked him right to the ship he had been hired on.

“Wallet?” Isabela asked.

Dorian held it up.

“And there’s money in it?”

Dorian visibly opened it, and gave Isabela a thumb’s up.

“Supplies pack?”

Dorian held up the pack with several days of rations in it.

“Excellent. And what do we say to mercenary employers?”

“Give me my fucking money!” Dorian said cheerfully, repeating the phrase Isabela had made him rehearse.

“Good. Best of luck out there, Dorian.”

Fenris watched Dorian disappear into the crowd. Isabela frowned. 

“You think he’ll do fine on his own?” Isabela asked, when he was out of earshot.

“Probably not,” Merrill said.

“Honestly, this place would eat you alive even if you did know the language,” Anders offered.

Isabela looked conflicted.

“It is none of our business,” Fenris said. “He will make it on his own.”

“Yeah,” Isabela said, watching as Dorian turned into an alley. “Yeah, I think you’re right, Fenris.”

And then the ship Dorian was walking toward exploded in a giant pillar of flame. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!!” Isabela said, loading her blaster. “Dorian?!’’

Fenris did not even bother to ask what they were doing. He already knew. Reluctantly, without bothering to question it, he drew his blade and ran forward, ready to fight off some new horde of mercenaries that somehow had found Dorian again. Instead, halfway there, he paused and looked at the ship.

Dorian had been--well, he hadn’t gotten onto the ship with his new crew yet. Instead, he stood just in front of the hangar door. He jumped back, and got jostled by some crew members fleeing in a panic. He retreated until he was by Isabela’s side.

Isabela held up her blaster, waiting for anyone hostile looking to emerge from the ship. Fenris glanced at her, and then at the fire on the ship. He then lowered his blaster.

“Wait,’’ he said. “Isabela, don’t shoot anyone. And back away. _’”_

Isabela turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“It looks like a standard engine rupture,’’ Fenris said. “Happens in old ships.’’

“No bounty hunters?’’ Merrill asked. “Or assassins?’’

“Just shitty engineering,’’ Fenris explained.

Merrill looked completely crestfallen. 

“We need to help rescue the crew then!’’ Anders said. “Here, I’ll--’’

But before he could suggest any plan, there was a second explosion as the corrosion reached the hyperdrive. This one was much stronger, blowing all of them off their feet.

By the time they got back to the _Sirin’s Call,_ Fenris had already accepted they wouldn’t be rid of Dorian this time. Dorian was wobbling as he walked back with them, walking dizzily as though he’d hit his head badly in his helmet. Aveline steading him with giant paws. 

No one else was faring any better. Most of them had hit their heads thanks to the blast. Anders recovered the quickest, and immediately went to where Isabela was clutching her head. 

“Alright everyone,’’ Anders said. “We all probably have tertiary blast injuries so--or wait, was it secondary blast injuries?’’

“And you say you’re so knowledgeable about healing,’’ Fenris snapped at him.

Anders squinted at him. “Listen,’’ he said. “Skull hit concrete--brain hit skull! Brain hurt. Force heal brain. Is that a thorough enough explanation, Fenris? Or should I use smaller words for you.’’

Fenris rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything as they all sat back down on the ship and Anders went around healing everyone. Predictably, when Anders reached Dorian, Dorian shoved him away.

“No!” he said in Basic. “No Jedi!”

Anders threw up his hands. “You might have a concussion!”

“No Jedi! Go away!”

“Fuck it!’’ Isabela said. “If he wants to sulk around with a massive headache, then let him. Now I’m going to fly us out of here so everyone shut the fuck up while I pilot.’’

Fenris didn’t comment on Dorian’s failure to leave this time. He only looked at Dorian once, and Dorian looked away.

* * *

MERRILL

* * *

Fenris woke after the incident to the familiar smell of citrus and spice. He froze in bed where he was, heart pounding in his chest. He trembled in place for a moment, and felt cold sweat drip down his face.

He sat up. He looked around. He was still on the _Sirin’s Call._ Still safe.

“Fenris.’’

He flinched at the voice. Merrill, of course. He didn’t look at her, but just ground his teeth.

“Fenris, are you alright?’’ she asked. “I can feel you’re not--’’

“Refrain from looking in my head,’’ Fenris snarled.

He looked up at her. She was wide-eyed and sad. “I wasn’t looking in your head, I can just sense--’’

“Out,’’ he said. “Leave.’’

Her tail drooped, but she did as he asked.

Slowly, the smell faded. Fenris’s heart stopped pounding. He ate quietly and went to the engine room. He worked, and he watched. Just as he’d always done. After doing his work for this shift, he went back to his bed and collapsed.

What had Merrill sensed from him?

The horror of it all only struck him just then. She was a particularly insidious kind of mage, one who could bend the mind. Could she see into him? Could she just look at all of his fears as she liked? Could she just peruse through his traumas like someone flipped through a picture book, staring at whatever page amused her the most?

Could she… plant things in his head? Things like smells from his days in the empire, purely to torment him?

The thought made him sick enough that he didn’t look at her the rest of the day.

* * *

He stopped being able to ignore Merrill when he started to find her hair in his bed.

He knew the best defense was to ignore her. She was a witch. She was a mind-witch, even. Her power was specifically to bend people to her will. To make them do her bidding. Worse, to make them want to. To make them love her.

The only defense for this was to give one such as her as little space in his head as possible. And so he resolved to ignore her as thoroughly as possible. Merrill would come up to him, eyes wide and chirrup in the most innocent voice--

“Fenris! Fenris, I’m trying to say something!’’

\--And he’d ignore her. Or answer curtly, if at all necessary. Sometimes as he did so he could see the crushed look on her face through the corner of his eye. But that was the only way.

Any interaction beyond what was necessary would fuel her power. The sweetness and innocence was a facade. She’d lure people in, using that facade to get them to lower their boundaries. And then, she had them.

He had refused to speak to her, and let her work her manipulation. That was his game plan. But then, he found hair in his bed.

“Merrill,” he snarled. “What were you doing in my bed?”

Merrill looked surprised. “Your bed?”

Anders poked his head in. “We have assigned beds?”

“My bed,” Fenris said stiffly. “Your hair was in it.”

Merrill tilted her head. “Well, I mean, I slept somewhere… all the beds look the same to me though, so…”

“That’s because they are the same!” Anders interjected.

“Pick one,” Fenris said. “And stick to it.”

It had to be done on purpose, he thought. A malicious trick to finally get him to crack and speak with her. A cunning plan to ensnare him through rage if she could not charm him.

It turned out, instead, that _in addition_ to being an evil manipulative witch who bent minds to her will, Merrill was incredibly oblivious. Which was, in Fenris’s opinion, even worse.

When he came into the room to find her cuddling up with a sleeping Anders, eyes closed and purring like a motorboat, he gave a disgusted sneer but thought nothing else of it. 

But no, it wasn’t just Anders. It turned out that Merrill, after a long day (such as there were in space) would simply go and collapse on any bed, even if someone else was in it. 

She jumped into bed with Aveline, who practically yelped in surprise. Merrill just snuggled into Aveline’s chest more, again making that loud purring noise Fenris was beginning to detest. Then, Fenris was treated to the spectacle of trying to gently detach Merrill, who sleepily dug her claws into the giant source of warmth.

Then, Fenris had to get woken by Dorian the next night.

“Fenris,” he said. “Fenris _why_ did Merrill take my bed?”

Fenris blinked. “Because you don’t use it?”

“No!” Dorian said. “I _was_ using it. I was having quite a relaxing nap for a change only to wake up and find myself on the floor and--!!”

He gestured to Merrill, curled up and asleep in Dorian’s bed.

“How amusing,’’ Fenris grumbled. “For once, the Sith Lord has to contend with not being able to control anything he has! Perhaps you can use your anger and frustration to fuel some new evil ritual. I know you sort do that.’’

Dorian let out the haughtiest huff of air through his helmet. “You are impossible.’’

Fenris just wished that Merrill had stuck to invading everyone else’s privacy. If that were the case, he probably would have just been amused: Isabela was in her own room, Aveline was too big and strong for Fenris to be concerned for her, and Fenris didn’t give a damn if Anders and Dorian were made uncomfortable--though unfortunately Anders wasn’t nearly as bothered as he ought to be

Instead she had to disturb him one of the few moments he was managing to sleep. 

One moment everything was dark and peaceful. The next, there was a weight on his body and he was thrashing in a panic. The smell of expensive, citrusy perfume flooded his senses for a moment, his eyesight going white as he woke up. Then the smell was gone. His vision returned, and he saw Merrill on top of him, perpendicular against the bed. 

Fenris screeched, and threw her off. Merrill yowled, and soon everyone was up and chattering.

“Get off!!” he shouted.

Merrill yawned. “Oh, sorry Fenris. I didn’t see you--”

“You damn--witch!’’ he wanted to scream every curse at her, to accuse her of interrupting his sleep on purpose. He said some of it, words tumbling out as white hot energy flew through his body, but the only reaction he got in return was a gentle pitying glance.

“Oh Fenris,’’ she said. “I’m sorry. I told you I didn’t mean it. You’ve been having trouble sleeping?’’

He clenched his jaw, refusing to give her any more information. He took one moment ito regain control of himself, to bring that white hot hatred down, and he gave her a controlled hiss.

“Get in my bed, with or without me in it, one more time,” Fenris said. “And you won’t leave with your limbs intact.’’

That should have been the last time he had to throw Merrill out of his bed. She should have learned, like any reasonable sentient being would. 

It was not. 

Nor was it the last time she crashed in anyone else’s bed. The next sleep cycle, Fenris was awoken by the strangled sounds of frustration come from under Dorian’s helmet. He flicked an eye open, and saw that Dorian was plucking bright-colored cathar hairs out of his blanket, fuming.

“That’s it,” Dorian said. “I’m taking my mattress to the cargo hold.”

* * *

“I don’t mean to,” Fenris overheard Merrill say to Isabela, quietly. “I really don’t.”

“It’s hard to accidentally jump into someone’s bed, kitten,” Isabela said. “I don’t think the others are wrong to be upset about it.”

“I swear I don’t!” Merrill said. “Just, back in the clan, we would share beds. Tamlen, Mahariel, and I, we would just curl up into one big pile. It was so warm… Feeling alone after that just…”

Merrill trailed off. Isabela didn’t say anything.

“When I sleepwalk, I think I just… go for people automatically,” she said. “I’ll try not to. Really I will. I can sense them and I…’’

Of course, Fenris had not missed exactly how Merrill regarded Isabela. 

Merrill found excuses to sit near Isabela when she had no business there. When Isabela was reading, Merrill was right beside her reading too. When Isabela was working with one of the computers Merrrill scurried over to press buttons on the computer next to her, practically mewling for Isabela’s attention. When Isabela spoke to her, Merrill would trill happily in a way she didn’t do for the others.

Isabela showed no such preferential treatment in return.

Isabela spoke freely with Merrill. Kindly, even. But she had not bent once to Merrill’s sweet wiles. Fenris listened to Merrill’s pleading tones, and expected Isabela to cave now, to coo at Merrill and offer to let her sleep in the cabin with her--that way she couldn’t accidentally jump into anyone’s bed, could she?

Instead, Isabela just clicked her tongue. “Well, kitten, you’re going to have to find a way not to do that. I understand. But you need to learn to stop it. The others deserve to have their boundaries respected.”

Merrill was quiet.

“Fenris?” Dorian. “Fenris what’s the verdict?”

“Isabela didn’t invite her back to her room,” Fenris whispered back. 

Dorian leaned forward. “Wait.’’ he said. “But did Merrill proposition her? Did Isabela turn her down?’’

“Hmm,’’ is all Fenris replied.

“Are you seriously going to leave me hanging on that note?’’ Dorian complained.

“Hm,’’ Fenris repeated, yawning. “I think it’s time for me to rest, now.’’

“This is cruel and unusual torture!’’ Dorian protested.

“Bother me again before I’ve had at least four hours, and I’ll show you what cruel and unusual torture really is,’’ Fenris shot back over his shoulder.

He got about three hours before he found himself getting up again. He paced and tinkered with some things for a few hours before he managed to sleep again for three more. 

Merrill apologized to them all when he was awake, sad and sincere but with her chin up.

“I am really going to try hard not to sleepwalk again,’’ she said. “I’m trying to figure out a sleeping remedy that should fix the problem, but in the meantime if I sleepwalk again and bother anyone else I understand if you kick me.’’

Fenris couldn’t detect any hint of insincerity to rip apart in her statement, so he opted to ignore it. Instead, Anders spoke up.

“Oh, bother, those guys are all grumps,” Anders said. “You can cuddle up with me any time. Now, in fact.”

Merrill trilled happily.

Isabela seemed disgruntled when she walked into the crew quarters and found Merrill curled up happily, purring away on Anders’ chest. Dorian’s head turned from Anders and Merrill, to Isabela, to Fenris.

Fenris resisted the urge to translate the most recent update to Dorian. Or at least, he did so for thirty seconds before discreetly leaning close to Dorian’s helmet, and whispered a translation of what Anders said.

“He said _what_?”

* * *

THIRD ATTEMPT

* * *

“Okay,” Dorian said, looking out the window as they prepared to land. “So I am definitely leaving here.”

“Yes,” Fenris said. 

“Much as I want to know the thrilling conclusion to the saga of the love triangle between Anders, Merrill, and Isabela. And also Aveline, apparently.’’

Fenris felt a tug at his lips, and turned it into a scoff before turning away. There was no need to draw out any goodbyes. Dorian was a Sith. Fenris would be safer when he left. Perhaps he’d even manage to get a full night’s sleep.

This time, Dorian left to go and look for work at a mercenary’s guild in the area and all seemed fine. Isabela made sure he had all of his possessions, and even seemed to scout out the guild building before leaving him there. Just to be certain that nothing was ready to explode this time.

“Oh,’’ Merrill said as they walked back. “Dorian’s really left, then.’’

Isabela clicked her tongue. “Seems so, Kitten.’’

“He can’t stay?’’

Isabela shrugged. “He asked to leave, sweetie. If he wants to go, he should be able to.’’

“I guess…’’ Merrill frowned. “But he didn’t want to leave. Not really. He just felt like he had to.’’

Isabela raised a brow at Merrill, not saying anything but clearly showing some doubt.

“I know he wanted to stay,’’ Merrill said. “I feel it.’’

Fenris wondered if maybe she knew Dorian was partially leaving at Fenris’s insistence. If she had reached her claws into his or Dorian’s mind to sniff out their quarrels. Tiredly, he bristled at the thought, and considered confronting her later out of Isabela’s earshot. Before he could, Anders spoke up. 

“Well all I feel is how he clogs the Force around him with darkness, so I say good riddance,’’ Anders responded.

That likely would have been the end of it. Except then Isabela had another stop at the cantina next door, and a large group of bounty hunters practically barged in as though they owned the place. Not any bounty hunter troupe Isabela could recognize, either--strange men in strange armor who were nonetheless glad to make noise.

Fenris found himself staring for a moment. Only when he looked away did he notice everyone at the table--Isabela, Aveline, Anders, and Merrill--were staring at the bounty hunters as well. It seemed they had all thought the same thing as him.

Aveline made a low, tired rattling sound.

“We don’t know they’re after him,’’ Fenris said. “It would be ridiculous to suppose that just from looking at them.’’

Isabela hissed out a breath. “Didn’t know you were a mind reader too, Fenris.’’

“I don’t have to be,’’ Fenris said. “I have eyes.’’

“What if they are, though?’’ Merrill asked quietly. “Maybe we should make sure before we leave Dorian here?’’

“Dorian is more than capable of handling himself,’’ Fenris said, trying very hard to keep his voice level. “And again, there is no indication they are after anyone remotely similar to D--’’

One of the bounty hunters slammed a mug on the table. “Alright boys!’’ he bellowed. “We’re gonna find that masked bastard and make a fortune off of him by the time the night’s out!’’

The other bounty hunters cheered. Fenris felt his ears twitch in annoyance.

“There are plenty of people besides Dorian who wear masks,’’ Fenris insisted.

“That’s true,’’ Anders said. “I had a friend back at the academy who just wore them as a fashion statement. Barely ever took the things off. Not even when we were--’’

“Oh yeah, it’s some target from beyond the outer rim,’’ the leader was saying to a waitress. “Doesn’t even speak Basic. Gonna be a piece of cake.’’

The bounty hunters laughed. At the table next to them, Fenris went quiet. Everyone else did too for half a minute.

“”Well,’’ Isabela said. “There _are_ lots of poor migrants from the outer rim here.’’

“It’s feasible there would be dozens of such people here who wear masks and aren’t Dorian,’’ Fenris added. 

“But if they are after Dorian,’’ Merrill said quietly, ‘’Then we’ve left him here to deal with them alone, with no back up and no way to understand the language.’’

Isabela didn’t say anything.

“Maybe we haven’t known Dorian that long,’’ Merrill said. “But I thought… I don’t know. I thought we’ve known him long enough to not just… leave him to a bunch of bounty hunters who might be out to kill him.’’

Isabela paused for a moment. “Aveline, could we take all of those guys even if we wanted to?’’

Aveline shook her head and made grunts that Fenris recognized from all the other times she took a moment to express herself about Isabela’s antics.

“We don’t have to fight though, do we?’’ Merrill asked. “We could just--’’

“Get out fast without asking any questions or taking any chances,’’ Isabela finished for her. 

“Well,’’ Merrill said. “I thought Dorian was our friend.’’

There was something oddly compelling about Merrill’s manner as she spoke. Like a black hole that sucked in all light, she drew the gaze of everyone at the table so strongly that they couldn’t look away. For a moment, Fenris was furious and wanted to snap at her--but then the next moment, he wasn’t even sure what he was angry about.

In a few seconds, he didn’t even remember being angry at all.

“Great,’’ Isabela said. “So we’ll just have to act before them, then.’’

She stood up quickly, tossed down what she owed, and they left before Fenris knew what was happening. Without stopping they quickly hopped back over to the guild and all but hauled a very confused, spluttering Dorian back to the ship. 

“We got you Dorian!’’ Merrill said. “We’re going back now.’’

“Ugh,’’ Anders groaned, somehow sounding even more done than Aveline. 

“Fenris what--’’ Dorian asked. “What is this about?’’

“Shh!’’ Isabela said, pushing Dorian back the other way. “Let’s go around. Get out of here before they see us.’’

“Fenris, please explain--’’

“Quiet,’’ Fenris said. “There are bounty hunters after you in the cantina.’’

_“What?’’_

“Well, probably,’’ Fenris grunted. “Now keep your head down so they don’t see.’’

Fenris forgot to be mad about not getting rid of Dorian a third time. In fact, as they flew away from the planet, he just stared back, frowning. He checked all of his supplies and possessions, all of his credits, but everything was there. So why did he feel like he had missed/forgotten something back there, then?

It didn’t trouble him long. In fact, after a day, neither Fenris nor anyone else could remember Merrill was the one who had pushed to bring Dorian back.

* * *

THE INCIDENT

* * *

Fenris paced instead of sleeping when it was his shift to do so. Dorian went into a trance, but specifically turned away from him. In embarrassment, at being saved by a member of the lower class? Afraid of Fenris’ sudden fury? 

Fenris could not tell. It only made it harder to sleep.

He tossed and turned. He slept, only to wake soon after, feeling as though his lungs were closing up. Images flickered behind his eyelids whenever he drifted off: a pair of human eyes, cruel and proud. The tug of dark magic against his skin. The dry smells of the streets of Drezzi.

Fenris came to awareness, felt the textures of his sheets, the coolness of the _Sirin’s Call._ He closed his eyes, trying to calm his heart. Except--there was that smell again.

The deep, rich scent of one of the rarest and most valued spices of Melldia. The rich scent that perfume makers laced into their cologne, for the Sith Lords delighted in its smell. It emanated strongly, and Fenris could practically feel the weight of someone behind him, emanating that smell.

Looming over Fenris.

He froze, his breath caught in his throat. He felt his limbs shake, and shake, and shake and yet he could not move them. The presence leaned close, and Fenris could have sworn he heard a familiar, raspy breath.

Then, cold fingers in his hair. Stroking. Curling the strands of his hair around those fingers.

Then it was over. Fenris stayed frozen for another moment, his breath returning to him. Then, finding his courage, he leapt up, ready to fight.

Danarius was not there.

Dorian, also, was not where Fenris remembered him. Dorian had already risen and started to perform his duties. As had everyone, it seemed. All save for a familiar back and head of blond hair standing in the doorway, laughing with someone.

Fenris rushed and shoved Anders. Merrill, whom it seemed he had been laughing with, yelped and just barely jumped out of the way as Anders’ head hit the wall of the narrow corridor with a loud, meaty _smack._

“Don’t touch me!” Fenris roared.

“I didn’t?!” Anders whirled around, clutching his head. “Ow--What the fuck, Fenris?”

“I’ll end you if you lay a finger on me again!” Fenris said, giving him a shove so he was backed against the wall. “Keep your filthy hands to yourself, or I will cut them off.”

“ _You_ keep your hands off _me,_ ” Anders spat. 

“Fenris! He didn’t do anything!” Merrill said. “I was with him the whole time, he hasn’t even been in the room for hours!”

Fenris saw red, and turned on her. “Of course you cover for him,” he spat. “Of course the mages band together to torment their _inferior.”_

Merrill’s tail flicked in annoyance. “What are you--’’

“It would be easy for you, wouldn’t it?’’ he spat. “You could just look through all my memories and determine what’s the best thing to plant in my head so I can’t rest!’’

Merrill looked shocked. “I wouldn’t--’’

“How long have you two been doing this to me?’’ he asked. “How long have you been trying to erode my mind?’’

“Is that what someone did to you before?’’ Merrill asked sadly. “Stop you from sleeping and make you feel like you were crazy?’’

Fenris flinched before roaring. “Stay out of my mind!’’ He reached for the nearest object to throw it. “I told you to stay _out--!’’_

“Oh for the love of--” Anders hissed, “Isabela! Isabela, Fenris has gone rabid!”

Isabela rushed to the scene. Aveline was there before Fenris noticed her, guiding him away. Fenris felt the rush leave him. The red drained out of his vision, and leaving him weak-kneed and ready to collapse.

He looked back. Dorian was standing at the other end of the hall, watching as Isabela put hands on Anders and spoke to him. But what Dorian’s reaction was, Fenris could not say.

Aveline guided him to the couch. Fenris shut his eyes tightly, letting his head fall back against the couch. His head was swimming, the exhaustion from it all threatening to take over him like a wave.

Aveline tapped him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes with a flinch. She held up a holopad with some words typed on it, and he sighed.

"I still can't read," he said.

Aveline facepalmed, and then promptly stood up and left. When she came back, it was with Isabela, who read the message aloud for him.

"She says she can confirm Anders did nothing," Isabela read. "She was watching from down the hall. Anders didn't even enter the room."

Fenris buried his face in his hands.

“Why didn’t you try and tell me when it was happening?”

Aveline spoke, and he somehow could make out her meaning regardless of the language barrier.

_I don't think you would have listened._

* * *

Fenris did not feel inclined to apologize, mistaken though it seemed he was. Isabela didn’t ask him to. However, when he went to eat dinner and saw the big purple bruise on Anders’ forehead, his resolve shook a bit.

Then he hissed to himself. The human could have healed himself any time. It was deliberate manipulation on Anders' part.

Perhaps Anders had done it. Perhaps he'd used magic to send the horrid vision. Provoking him. Trying to make him look irrational.

He ate, not looking at anyone. He could notice Dorian hovering anxiously around where he normally sat next to Fenris, as though unsure if he was allowed to sit down.

“So, Fenris," Isabela said. Fenris quailed as he thought she was going to address the incident. “Before we try and drop Dorian off at the next planet, I think we should get an idea of who is after him.”

Not about him, then. Still, Fenris did not relax.

“I mean,” Isabela said, “Since he had guys attack him at least once, and while the guys on the last planet might not have been after him… well. If he has some enemy coming after him, I think we deserve to know who.’’

“To be fair,” Fenris said. “He’s not the only one.’’

Quiet. Fenris didn’t realize what he had said at first. He was getting too tired to keep track of what was said out loud, and what was said in his head. 

“Oh?” Isabela asked. “Well, I’m all for knowing all about who might be trying to kill us. Care to share, Fenris?”

He would get kicked off the ship. He had just thrown a tantrum and now he had revealed he would paint a bright red target on their backs--just as much as Dorian would. He would bring as much trouble as…. He swallowed.

“My…. master,” he said, finally. “Or, he who was my… I ran away. He’s a m--”

He still didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but he could feel them all on him.

“He has frightening powers, as well as many people under his control,” Fenris said. “And it seems he is using them to find me.”

He waited for Isabela to declare they’d drop him off with Dorian at the next stop. That no one was worth all that trouble. He clenched his fist around the silverware.

“Oh,” he heard from Merrill. “Oh Fenris, I’m so sorry.”

He hunched over more tightly, as though he could curl into a ball.

“Ack, so that’s what those guys on Taris were about,” Isabela said. “Well, we’ll know to be ready for them, then. “

Fenris felt his hands shake, and his eyes sting. Just the exhaustion, he told himself. Just the exhaustion getting to him. Nothing else.

(But did wonder how could Isabela tell him not to trust her, and then go so far for him?)

“Dorian, are you going to sit down?” Isabela asked. Then, to be clear, she tapped her hand on the table in front of the empty seat. “Dorian, are you going to sit?’’

Dorian sat, abruptly. 

“Fenris,” Dorian asked. “What happened? No one has even tried to explain anything to me! Do we need to kill the Jedi?”

Fenris hated that he felt a burst of warmth for the Sith at that.

He didn’t apologize. But he did follow Anders afterwards, still avoiding his eyes. Anders turned around, and tapped his foot impatiently.

“Something you want to say?”

Fenris’s throat was dry. “I was mistaken,” he said. “It will not happen again.”

“Apology of the year,” Anders retorted.

Fenris simply turned to his bed, and hid under the covers.

* * *

For the first time, Isabela was the one to wake him with a soft voice and a gentle shake.

“Hey,” she said. “Just checking to see if you’re still alive. We’re going to dock in about six hours.”

Fenris nodded, and Isabela left him to rise on his own time.

He got up and heard chattering. Anders and Merrill, it seemed, standing in front of the doorway again, both of them talking quickly as though to drown the other out.

“We have our own traditions!” Merrill said, flicking her tail. “We have no need of the Jedi, nor do we want their help!”

“Force-sensitives need training,” Anders insisted, turning up his nose. “And whatever your traditions were, there isn’t much left of them now.”

Merrill gave him a sharp toothed smile and tilted her head just slightly. “And the Jedi have nothing to do with that, of course.’’

“What are you implying?’’ Anders demanded.

Down the hallway, Aveline and Isabela were managing to argue when one of them barely understood each other.

“I told you. You don’t like it, you leave! We can let you off at the next port.”

Aveline snarled.

“It’s not like I like you either you hairy cu--”

Fenris sat down on the couch. He watched. He listened. All was as though nothing had happened. The formations changed, Merrill hopping off to chirp at Aveline, while Isabela and Anders went into the cargo bay where they thought no one could hear them. So of course, Fenris followed a safe distance behind, ready to eavesdrop.

“Talk to me.” Isabela sounded testy. “Is there some reason you haven’t been healing your own bruising?”

“There is no need. Also, I might need the energy for whatever happens at the next port.”

“What is with you! What did the Jedi do to you, Anders? I thought you’d left for good!”

“....I did.”

Silence.

“I did. But it wasn’t… It’s hard to explain.”

Dorian sidled up to Fenris, interrupting his eavesdropping.

“Okay so,” he said. “This planet, for sure.”

“This planet,” Fenris repeated, hazily. “What _about_ this planet?”

“I’ll actually leave this time.”

Fenris said nothing. There was an unpleasant sensation in his chest. 

“Please believe me. I haven’t been orchestrating things to stay on purpose,” Dorian babbled. “I really have been planning to leave. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in your last haven or… whatever you consider this ship.’’

Fenris stared at him.

“I promise, no matter what happens, this will be the last you see of me?”

Everything in Fenris stopped for a moment. He blinked, frowning. He knew that he had told Dorian to leave. He remembered the conversations vividly. But now, for whatever reason, the idea of Dorian leaving felt Wrong.

“What are you talking about, you fool?” Fenris asked sharply. “Clearly the act of you trying to leave is cursed.”

Dorian looked like he was going to respond. Fenris cut him off before he could.

“Don’t bother trying to leave. You’ll only cause more trouble. Now hush, Isabela and Anders are talking about the Jedi.”

Fenris strained his ears. Dorian leaned in. Isabela and Anders’ tones were more hushed.

“....but what are they _saying_?” Dorian asked.

“Quiet,” Fenris said. “They’re saying…”

And he translated the rest for Dorian, gleefully.

* * *

“Love your enemy or enjoy nothing.’’

Fenris kept toying with the translation in his head as he tried to sleep during his break shift. Somehow, over the past week, the revulsion the phrase had waned leaving only a deep, petty irritation in its place.

Fenris was not Sith, and he refused to live like one. He would not love his enemy. One day, he would find decent people to love. Decent people to trust. 

For now though… now he was on a ship with three mages, his bed less than a yard away from two of them. Now, a Sith Lord was the only one who spoke his language. And in spite of all the pain and hatred of the past, Fenris decided life was better when you had someone to gossip with.

With that thought, Fenris into his first restful sleep he had on the _Sirin’s Call._ The first of many to come.

* * *

GOOD NIGHT.


End file.
